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As rewarding as the First Harvest of the season, the Last Harvest comes, and is just as sweet. Where spring-cut rhubarb promised the first of fresh-fruit-bakery, ripe, red apples beg you to come in, come home, come be warm and full.

For fall is upon us, and the best kind of heat emits from ovens that perfume the air with cinnamon and spice.

From the tree…

to the bushel…

to the bowl upon the shelf…

Any guesses on tomorrow’s good thing?

 

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